I finally dragged myself out of bed about 20 minutes ago. Nighmares last night, and it's immensely hot today, so I've holed up in the studio (home of the portable air conditioner) to see if I can make sense out of living another day.
Yesterday at the library I picked up two new books: Children of Jonah: Personal Stories by Survivors of Suicide Attempts by James T. Clemons, and The Suicidal Patient: Recognition and Management by Ari Kiev. I read them both last night, and come out of the experience with deepened despair. If suicidal ideation/behavior has some qualities of an addiction -- including the necessity of the individual making daily choices against the impulse and engaging in a constant struggle -- then I'll never be free.
I'm filled with rage. I want to kill the people who made me like this, who tormented me and treated me in ways that would probably warp the best child. What could I have been, if I'd had even one healthy parent? Or simply not been sexually molested? Not here, surely, crippled and wallowing in my own misery. Unfortunately the only person I can punish, whose life I can take in retaliation, is my own.
Last night I also threw my first bowl on the potters wheel, but that scarcely seems to matter. I'm trying so hard to hold onto what's positive in my life, to build a "life worth living" and keep going, but it feels like a losing battle.
Yesterday at the library I picked up two new books: Children of Jonah: Personal Stories by Survivors of Suicide Attempts by James T. Clemons, and The Suicidal Patient: Recognition and Management by Ari Kiev. I read them both last night, and come out of the experience with deepened despair. If suicidal ideation/behavior has some qualities of an addiction -- including the necessity of the individual making daily choices against the impulse and engaging in a constant struggle -- then I'll never be free.
I'm filled with rage. I want to kill the people who made me like this, who tormented me and treated me in ways that would probably warp the best child. What could I have been, if I'd had even one healthy parent? Or simply not been sexually molested? Not here, surely, crippled and wallowing in my own misery. Unfortunately the only person I can punish, whose life I can take in retaliation, is my own.
Last night I also threw my first bowl on the potters wheel, but that scarcely seems to matter. I'm trying so hard to hold onto what's positive in my life, to build a "life worth living" and keep going, but it feels like a losing battle.
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The thing about addictions is that they can be overcome. Granted, it is difficult, but it can be done. I believe that one day you will be free. Just remember that we're all here for you.
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I'm not sure how good reading those books is for you, but that's your discretion. But please know that I love you and am here for you.
Addictions are a fight, but I'm told that if you can keep overcoming them long enough, the patterns set into you. *hugs*
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PS - The joys of pottery! I remember when I didn't centre a chunk of clay once and when I started the motor to form it ... ZING! It flew across the room ^.^ . Makes you wonder if potters should wear hard hats as a precaution.